


The Truth

by ready_to_kick_some_ass



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, Emotions, Episode: s04e02 The Lying Detective, First Kiss, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Love Confessions, M/M, No baby, let john watson say he's bisexual 2k17, no tfp, what's tfp
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-04
Updated: 2017-02-04
Packaged: 2018-09-22 01:31:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9575912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ready_to_kick_some_ass/pseuds/ready_to_kick_some_ass
Summary: John has moved in again.John has moved in and everything is alright.Isn’t it?





	

John has moved in again.  
John has moved in, and everything is all right.   
Isn’t it?

Sherlock is happy. He is happy to have John with him again. To see him in the kitchen in the morning, making scrambled eggs and tea. To hear him singing quietly in the shower. To see him sitting in his armchair, typing on his blog or reading the newspaper with that attractive frown on his face. 

But there are also moments in which Sherlock feels a mixture of worry and uneasiness.

The moments, when John comes home from work with a bottle of beer in his hand.   
Or when John does the shopping and under the groceries are some bottles of whiskey.   
In those moments, John’s face is an impression of false light-heartedness and Sherlock doesn’t like it at all. 

But he doesn’t say anything.

He also doesn’t say anything, when John gets a bit grumpy from the alcohol. When he slams doors or kicks the furniture. 

He also doesn’t say anything, when he hears John laughing hysterically or sobbing quietly in his room.

He can’t.

And he can’t say anything, when John throws him _those_ looks.   
Looks Sherlock can’t really interpret.  
There is a mixture of sadness and anger in them. Of confusion and … regret? Or is it just confusion?

Sherlock hates the alcohol. 

It has brought something dark and uncontrollable into the flat.

But John obviously likes the alcohol. It seems to help him. Seems to help him with his grief.

 _So who_ , Sherlock asks himself, _am I to deny him this help?_  
 _He hasn’t forgiven me yet, right?_  
He wouldn’t listen to me anyway.   


  
And when he has those thoughts, he suddenly realizes that they hardly talk to each other.

John moved in again and everything is all right. Isn’t it?  
No.  
It isn’t. 

But it is what it is. 

*

One evening, John shatters a glass.

They are both in the room when it happens.  
Sherlock sits on the couch and stares at the window. He’s a bit lost in thoughts.  
John stands in the kitchen and pours himself a glass of whiskey.  
Suddenly, the glass slips through his fingers.  
It shatters to pieces on the floor, John yells a curse, and Sherlock flinches violently.   
He looks to John and sees the glass shards on the ground.  
He swallows. 

“John,” he says softly. 

John turns around to him, and it frightens Sherlock to see how much rage and pure emotion is in those eyes. He swallows.

“WHAT?” John screams and a fine rain of spit comes out of his mouth.

“I … I wanted to ask if I could help you,” Sherlock says softly and points to the glass shards on the ground. “With this?”

John looks at him, breathing heavily, his hands clenched into fists.  
Sherlock looks back at him in silence.  
In the next moment, John shakes his head and turns around again. He leans on the sink with his hands and drops his head. 

And then Sherlock hears the sobs.  
They start mildly, but soon, they shake John’s whole body.  
And Sherlock stares at John, his eyes wide open.

He’s overwhelmed.

A part of him just wants to go to John and comfort him.  
But another part warns him not to do it.

He swallows. 

And then he gathers all his courage and stands up. He goes to John and, after a short moment of hesitance, hugs him from behind.

He feels John flinching, and for a second, he’s scared, John might shove him away, but he doesn’t. He just continues to sob.

Sherlock holds John, and they stand there together, amidst glass shards. 

*

“This is a mess. I’m a mess.”

“No. Listen, John. It’s all right if you … still need time to cope. Mary’s death surely traumatized you and …”

“Wait. You don’t think, this is all about Mary, do you?”

Sherlock looks at John, surprised. What else should it be about?  
“Yes,” he says. “Of course it’s about Mary.”

“Oh God.” John strokes a hand over his face and sighs. “You idiot.”

Sherlock flinches slightly at the insult and looks to the side. Apparently he did it wrong again. Well, nothing new. “I’m sorry. I thought … I thought you needed time for yourself. To grieve.”

John quickly shakes his head. “No. No, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. Actually I’m the idiot here. Sherlock, I’m done grieving. I … Look, I don’t think I loved Mary the way _she_ loved _me_ to be honest. She … she wasn’t even the woman I met. She played a game, and I played it with her. For a long time. Now, she’s gone. And I don’t … I don’t feel numb or empty. I just … feel a kind of distant sadness, you know?” John smiles bitterly, and takes a sip of his tea. Then adds quietly, “I don’t feel like the lonly widower I apparently should be now.”

“Oh,” Sherlock makes awkwardly. “But, uhm, why … this?”

“You mean the alcohol? My moods? Well, I … God, I can’t do this anymore, Sherlock. I feel like I’m going crazy.” John suddenly stands up, and Sherlock swallows nervously. 

“What do you mean?” He says quietly.   
_And in his mind, a voice whispers: Now he’s going to say it. Now he’s going to tell you, what a useless friend you are. He doesn’t need you. You can’t help him. He will go to Greg or someone else for a while. Because they aren’t useless freaks like you._

And John says, “You remember my speech at your grave? I … I was broken after you jumped. I was empty and numb, Sherlock. I … God, this is hard.” John breathes in deeply. Looks to the ground.

Sherlock doesn’t understand.   
_Why doesn’t he say it already. It really isn’t that difficult. Or does he think he can do this without hurting my feelings?_

Suddenly John looks up again, and his eyes are full with tears.   
Sherlock blinks.  
“I had feelings for you, Sherlock,” John says and swallows.   
Sherlock blinks again.  
“I had feelings for you and I thought you were dead. So I tried, I really tried to move on. But … I still have them, ok? I still have feelings for you. And I can’t be silence about this anymore. Because each day of silence destroys me further.”

Sherlock stares.  
“But,” he says with a trembling voice. “You like … you date women!”

John smiles and shakes his head. “I’m bisexual. Remember Major Sholto? We kissed. I had experiences in my youth. But my father … well, that’s another story. For later. For now: Yes, I’m bisexual. I … I denied it for a while. But it’s the truth. And this is the truth too:”, he crouches in front of Sherlock and lays his hand on Sherlock’s knees and Sherlock stares at him, completely frozen.

“I, John Watson, love you, Sherlock Holmes. And I … I had the feeling, that you too, uhm …”

“I love you too, John,” Sherlock says softly. Barely audible. His voice trembling. “I did it since the beginning.”

“Oh God,” John whispers. And then he takes Sherlock face in his hands and kisses him.

Slowly, softly. 

Sherlock melts into the kiss. He returns it, and it gets more passionate and heated. They kiss each other desperately. It’s real and it’s now.  
And Sherlock begins to cry happy tears.

They seperate, John wipes the tears out of Sherlock’s face carefully, and they look at each other for a moment.  
They smile.

It’s the beginning of a new era.


End file.
